


no stranger to you and me

by bearfeathers



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Apologies, Breaking Up & Making Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Male Pronouns for Asra (The Arcana), Memory Loss, Multi, Named Apprentice (The Arcana), Other, non-binary characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 14:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21138332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearfeathers/pseuds/bearfeathers
Summary: (SPOILERS for latest chapter of Portia's route.)When the trial breaks for a recess, some of Asra's comments regarding himself and Julian get on the Apprentice's nerves. And they're gonna do something about it.





	no stranger to you and me

As Mazelinka consoles Portia, moving her from the clamoring crowd building in front of the Coliseum, Asra and I follow behind. I make a grab for Asra's wrist, clearly startling him from his thoughts as he looks to me with surprise written in his wide eyes. I lean in towards him, pitching my voice low so Portia won't overhear.

"Asra, why did you leave?" 

The white-haired magician sighs. "It seemed to me that I had answered the Consul's questions sufficiently."

"But you worked with Julian, you know him better than I do," I remind him. "We could have used you as a character witness ourselves."

Asra snorts. "Believe me, Albion, you wouldn't want me as a character witness for Ilya."

Up until now, I've left it alone. Whatever kind of relationship they'd had, it was none of my business. But I'm not about to see an innocent man hang or his sister cry any more tears over him. Not because of this. My mind set, I tighten my grip on Asra's wrist and abruptly change our course, dragging him behind me towards the holding cells.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his tone one of surprise.

"I'm settling this," I tell him.

"Albion, you don't understand—"

"I don't have to."

The words come out icier than I intended and Asra lapses into silence. I feel a prickle of guilt on the back of my neck, but do my best to ignore it for now; apologies can come later. Right now, I have business to take care of. The guard outside Julian's cell practically rips the door open for me before I can even get a word out, rattling in his armor. It's only then I can feel my face scrunched up into an angry scowl; evidence of my foul mood. I take a moment to relax, letting out a long breath and working a smile back onto my face.

"Thank you," I say, with a polite nod of my head. 

They nod back silently, but seem more at ease now that I don't look like I'm out for blood. As the door closes behind us, I let go of Asra's wrist and Julian looks up with a perplexed frown. That is, until his gaze lands on Asra. The doctor's face reddens considerably and he averts his gaze, focusing instead on me.

"Is Pasha alright?" he asks.

A flush of fond warmth spreads through my chest at the thought of her. She cares so much about her brother, she's worked so hard...

"She will be," I assure him. "She's just... upset right now. She's worried what she said will be what gets you declared guilty."

"No!" Julian blurts. "No, it's not her fault! Why does she think it's her fault?"

"Maybe it runs in the family," Asra mutters.

The first thing he's said since we stepped foot in here and it seems to light a fire under Julian's ass. His expression turns venomous as he turns his attention to Asra.

"You don't get to say _anything_ about her," he spits. 

Asra's expression darkens considerably and I can tell this is about to turn into a fight. I put myself between them, holding my arms out to keep them out of swinging distance from one another.

"Enough!" I bark at both of them. "We're not doing this anymore. I'm sick of you two being at each other's throats—we're resolving this here and now."

Both of them begin to protest.

"This isn't something you can just fix like that," Asra informs me.

I shake my head. "I'm not saying we have to fix it all right now. But you two need to _talk_ to each other. You both have people who care about you who would like it if you could at least be civil with each other."

That seems to get them both thinking. Maybe they don't want to salvage this relationship for themselves but they seem more willing to do it for someone else. With a sigh, I sit on the dirty floor of the cell and motion for them to do the same. They hesitate but comply for now and sit opposite each other on either side of me so that we form a triangle.

"You don't have to be explicit, just... talk. Please," I implore them. "Julian, I believe you had questions for Asra about your, uh... mark."

"His mark?" Asra echoes, brow furrowed in confusion. "What mark?"

"The one you gave me. _This_ one," Julian informs him, jabbing a finger at his own throat.

Asra stares at the bare skin of Julian's throat, not looking particularly impressed or enlightened. I clear my throat to draw Julian's attention and shake my head. The doctor seems to get my meaning when he begins searching around where he's seated.

"Oh, uh... wait," he says, inspecting several small rocks before finding one that satisfies him. I can't hide my wince as he uses the jagged edge to slice open his palm and blood bubbles up from the cut. Almost immediately, the wound begins to heal as the mark on his throat glows. He mimics his motions from moments ago and jabs a finger at the mark. "_This_ one."

"I didn't give you that mark," Asra says.

"Aha! So you admit—... I'm sorry, what?" Julian splutters.

"I didn't give you that mark," Asra repeats impatiently. 

Julian deflates considerably, frowning in consternation. "Well, if you didn't, then who _did_?"

"How should I know?" Asra says coolly.

"I don't know. You're a magician, don't you know... other magicians?" Julian flounders.

Asra folds his arms over his chest. "Oh, of course. I'm a magician so I must know everyone else who is."

"Look, I don't know how all that... that... _stuff_ works," Julian huffs. "But doctors tend to know other doctors and you usually get to the point where you can recognize each other's handiwork. I thought this might be the same."

Asra's expression relaxes considerably at that. For a moment he looks contemplative, wistful. He shakes his head.

"It does look familiar, but... I don't know who could have given it to you," Asra says. "It's powerful magic. Not the kind most magicians could perform."

Julian looks put out by this news, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He stares at the dirt ground between himself and Asra before sighing and rubbing the back of his own neck as though trying to work a knot loose.

"I was so sure it was you that—... well. Nevermind. I suppose that will have to remain a mystery for now," Julian mumbles.

"Are we done here?" Asra asks, making a move to get up.

I quickly reach out and grab him by his wrist once more, ensuring he stays right where he is. "Nope. That's just one thing. We have a lot more to discuss before anyone's leaving this cell. But to start with, Julian, why don't you apologize to Asra for blaming him over the mark."

I watch as Julian's face goes from slightly flushed to a color more closely matching our fire salamander's skin. He struggles around his words, starting sentences and aborting them several times before he manages something coherent.

"I'm... I'm sorry I blamed you for the curse mark. I should've... I should've asked you before making an assumption," Julian says, his single grey eye looking anywhere but at Asra.

I look to my friend expectantly. "Asra?"

Asra shifts uncomfortably before offering a reluctant, "I accept your apology."

"Good!" I say clapping my hands together. "Now we're making progress. Next I think—"

"May I say something else?" Julian says, interrupting me before I can finish.

I'm not about to stop either of them if they're about to talk without me having to pry it out of them. I nod with what I hope is an encouraging expression. Julian still doesn't look Asra in the eye, but at the very least he's looking in his direction now, which is... something, I guess.

"I'm, uh... I know I can be, well... difficult to deal with at times," Julian says slowly. "And I know I... I was selfish. With you. You made it clear in the beginning you weren't looking for anything that involved and... I crossed the line. I expected too much from you. More than you were willing to give. It wasn't fair to you and I'm..."

His throat bobs as he swallows around the words.

"I'm sorry, Asra," he says, his voice strained.

I can feel my own eyebrows hitched up nearly to my hairline. That was... a lot more than I was expecting to get. Apparently that mark had been the linchpin for Julian. Take it away and he folded like a deck of cards. But when I look to Asra, he doesn't seem nearly as impressed. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, his shoulders bunched and his expression nearly a scowl. I've never seen Asra quite like this before. I'm not sure what to make of it.

"Asra," I prod gently. "Did you hear what Julian said?"

"I heard him," Asra mutters.

"And do you have anything you'd like to say?" I add hopefully.

Asra remains still and silent, glaring at the far wall. The heavy weight of disappointment settles in my stomach as the silence stretches on. Asra has always been secretive, yes, but he always have me a reason, at least. He always appeared sorry he couldn't tell me. Right now, seeing him angry and hurt and refusing to budge, that disappointment only feels heavier.

"There has to be something you want to say," I try.

Asra blows out an aggravated breath, seemingly trying to keep his temper in check. "You don't understand. Neither of you do."

"Then help me understand!" Julian blurts. "Help me understand what I need to do. Whatever it is, I'll do it."

"You don't understand," Asra repeats, only sounding more annoyed than before. "It's not that simple."

"Asra, I'm willing to—"

"You don't even _remember_!" Asra snarls at him. "_You let Albion die_!"

For a moment his words ring in the confined space of the cell before a heavy silence descends on us. And then pain. It feels like there's a vice wrapped around my skull and someone keeps tightening it. Julian... let me die? I died? But how... It hurts. _It hurts_. I can see Julian holding his head. Asra's on his knees now, shifting towards me, hands reaching out to steady me.

"No, no, no, _please_ don't," he's begging me. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, _please don't go_."

Sorry? What is it that he's sorry for? And where am I going? Am I going somewhere? Pain flashes bright white behind my eyelids and suddenly I think I must be falling. Down, down, down. Down into the dark. Down into the dark where there's quiet and nothing hurts.

* * *

The next time I open my eyes I'm staring at a colorful canopy over a plush bed. I manage to determine I'm in my room at the palace. My body feels leaden, and my head throbs faintly with some distant echo of pain. I struggle to sit up, thoughts coming to me gradually through the fog that blankets my mind.

"You're awake!"

In moments I have my arms full, my face hurried in a mess of curly auburn hair. Strong, warm arms hold me tightly, even as their owner trembles and sobs against me.

"Portia...?" I venture curiously. "What happened? Wasn't I in a cell...?"

"You remember," Asra says. I look over the top of Portia's head to see my fellow magician staring at me with something like wonder in his eyes. He leans against the foot of the bed, seeming breathless. He clutches at his heart through the fabric of his shirt, eyes squeezed tightly shut as they begin to fill with tears. "You _remember_."

I frown, sifting through my thoughts. I remember... I spy Julian standing at the opposite end of the room, leaning against the wall by the large bay windows. The moment our eyes meet, he quickly turns away, his face even paler than I'm used to. But why...?

...oh.

Oh.

"I... died," I hear myself say.

Porta straightens up, sniffling absently and cupping my face in her hands. The warmth of her calloused palms grounds me, keeps me from drifting off in my thoughts.

"Asra and Ilya explained while you were unconscious," Portia tells me. She brushes her thumbs across my cheeks. "Are you okay? I mean... I know you're probably not _okay_, but..."

"I think so?" I answer looking down at my body, though suddenly it doesn't feel quite mine.

"I've tried to tell you this in the past," Asra informs me, wiping at his eyes. "And when I did, you would get a terrible headache and... and we had to start all over again. You'd forget _everything_. I was so afraid I'd done it again."

He'd tried to tell me all of this before. But I hadn't remembered. I remember sitting in the cell with him and Julian, having that terrible headache... but Julian had seemed to be having one as well. Did he not remember either?

"I remember now. I was working at your clinic, Julian. I was... apprenticing with you. During the plague. And the _dungeon_... We were researching and... I got the plague. And I died."

Julian flinches away from my words, huddled in on himself as he crosses his arms tightly over his chest and refuses to look our way. Asra finally glances up at Julian's silence, turning to look at him.

"Ilya."

The names sounds softer than I've ever heard Asra say it. It's devoid of the bitterness, the anger, the hurt and contempt. It's gentle. Pleading.

"Yes, I remember now. How I let it happen," Julian says, his voice dripping with disgust. "I was so buried in my work that I didn't even know you'd contracted it. And then you were gone. Three days, that's all it took. And it was my fault."

"Ilya, no! It wasn't your fault," Portia says. She squeezes my hands tightly, her big blue eyes looking into mine hopefully. "It wasn't, right?"

I shake my head, the memories coming clearer now. "It wasn't your fault, Julian. I didn't tell you. I didn't tell _anyone_. It all just happened so fast. But it's not your fault."

"If I had just bothered to check," Julian says, palm kneading his forehead. "I was supposed to be looking out for you. Asra had left and I promised... We were _friends_ and I _promised_..."

"But that's just it, Ilya," Asra says, walking towards him. "I left. I was at fault, too."

"No one was at fault," I say, but my words appear to go unheard.

Portia seats herself on the bed beside me, hugging me close and carding her fingers through my hair. I know what she's trying to tell me. It seems that Asra and Julian are finally going to talk and we shouldn't interrupt. I squeeze her free hand, letting her know I understand, and settle back to let the doctor and magician air their feelings.

"That was different," Julian says, waving a hand dismissively, "I was there. I could have done something."

"You couldn't," Asra insists. "There was nothing you could have done. I know you, I know you were working as hard as you could and if you didn't have the cure then, no amount of hard work would have changed that."

Julian doesn't appear convinced. He shakes his head miserably, wedging his lanky frame as tightly into the corner as possible. Asra pushes forward and I swear if Julian could melt into the wall, he would. Asra stops, aborting his attempt to reach out to him in favor of giving the doctor his space.

"I did blame you. For a long time. I needed someone to blame besides myself and you were an easy target," Asra says. "I had... I'd had feelings for you, but after Albion died... I was afraid. If I got any more attached to you than I was and something happened to you... I didn't want to be hurt like that ever again. I couldn't. But when you came to me that night at the shop, I..."

His hands clench into fists repeatedly at his sides.

"I was too weak to turn you away. I needed you," Asra says. "You wanted to be punished for what had happened... and so did I. We both reacted so differently to Albion's death—you pulled people closer and I pushed them further away. But we never _talked_ about it. It was just so much easier to hurt each other and convince ourselves that it was some kind of penance. I thought giving you the pain you wanted made me feel better, but now I know it... it didn't. It just made it all worse. And I didn't want to admit that to myself so I blamed you instead."

"There was nothing either of you could have done," I say loudly. Both sets of eyes turn to look at me. I had planned to stay quiet, but it felt right to say this now. "Neither of you were responsible for what happened to me. I don't want you to feel guilty. If you really feel like you owe me something... then just fix what you broke between you. I'm okay. I want both of you to be, too."

I feel Portia press a kiss to the top of my head. Asra smiles faintly at me before turning back to Julian.

"I'm sorry, Ilya," he says genuinely. "I'm not asking you to forgive—"

"I forgive you," Julian says before Asra can finish getting the words out.

"Don't be so quick to answer," Asra says, shaking his head. "Take some time to really think about it "

"I already have," Julian informs him. "I was angry at you for so long when I didn't even remember half the things I was angry about. And if I'd just tried to talk to you, we could have cleared this up _years_ ago. But I didn't. Because I was too busy wallowing in self-loathing to even think about it. I... used you to punish myself. Because if it didn't come from someone who cared, then it wouldn't mean anything. I never stopped to consider your own grief or how any of it made you feel or what you wanted. I said and did a lot of things that I regret, but... I want to be a better man. I want to do better. I don't want to let any of you down again. So..."

"I forgive you," Asra says simply.

"Uh... are you sure?" Julian asks, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "You don't have to. I would understand if you didn't. And don't feel pressured just because Pasha and Albion are here, you know, I wouldn't necessarily forgive me if I were you and—"

"Yes, I'm sure," Asra says sounding faintly amused by Julian's answer. "We'll both do better. We can do it together."

"...I can live with that," Julian says after a moment.

"We just have to make sure we win this trial so that you live at all," Portia reminds the room solemnly.

Oh, right. The trial. We may have made several personal breakthroughs here, but the murder trial is still very much a thing outside these walls. However my thoughts on that matter disappear the second I see Asra reach out, resting his hand on Julian's arm. To my surprise, Julian allows the touch. 

"Let me help you, Ilya."

The words are soft, intimate and sincere. I see Julian frown and for a moment I worry he's going to push Asra away. But he surprises me again. His shoulders droop as a heavy sigh leaves him and he bows his head forward.

"Please."

"Oh thank _god_," Portia mutters into my hair, just loud enough that only I can hear it.

I smile to myself, watching Asra and Julian enter an awkward embrace. But in a few short moments, muscle memory seems to take over—Julian relaxes, his face buried in Asra's woolly hair and I watch as Asra let's out a slow, shaky sigh. I have no doubt that this will be the first talk of many for them, but it's a far better start than I could have ever hoped for.

We may have the second half of a murder trial in front of us, but watching them, feeling Portia's hand in mine, I have the distinct feeling that it'll all be okay.


End file.
